Grinning as though he wants to, rather than as though his trainer has told him to bare his teeth. Cheerful like a man on the way to Downing Street, rather than one who’s prudently pre-booked the removal van.

This strange cluster moves slowly along the seafront for all of 100 yards, during which time Gordon manages to shake the hands of a score of passers-by. “Hello, good to meet you, lovely day,” he says, almost laughing with the joy of it all.

Maybe it’s the giddiness of a man on the way out. Perhaps it’s the confidence of a winner. Or is this glee caused by his companion? It’s hard to see through the crowds, but it looks like he has someone with him...

Gordon manages to get through his brief encounters with the public without incident, despite one man collaring him about “why he can’t afford to fill his petrol tank any more”. Gordon reassures him that he’ll do more to bring down fuel prices – although, afterwards, the man (“just call me Captain Crash”) tells me he’s still not going to vote Labour.

“It’s funny he’s here, though,” he says. “We only came for a wedding and we’ve already seen the Hairy Bikers.”

People are excited to see him, not necessarily because he’s the Prime Minister, but because he’s off the telly. After a quick chat with an Ipswich Town fan: “We’ve had one or two good results, but a disappointing season” - draw your own parallels – Brown reaches the safety of the red balloons. A Labour Party rally at the Campus of the University of Suffolk. Local MP Chris Mole is here, in trim beard and interesting specs.

When Gordon steps on to the stage, he gets a proper, sustained round of applause – even some whoops. And he makes a genuinely inspiring speech, reminding the party faithful and the TV cameras of Labour’s fundamental principles of fairness to the ordinary voter.

“I’m here to fight for the future,” he says. “This is no ordinary election, because this is no ordinary time. We need a majority Labour government fighting for the economy, for the NHS, for schools, for policing, for young people, for jobs.

“The Conservatives will take away child benefit to those on middle incomes, they’ll take away child trust funds, they’ll remove the guarantee that you’ll see a cancer specialist within two weeks. . . “When you go to the ballot box, don’t put a cross next to a question mark.”

It’s the best speech I’ve heard all campaign. Duncan Bannatyne’s wife sends him a text. “What have you done to Gordon? He’s buoyant!”

Afterwards, Gordon is driven to Ipswich Rugby Ground, where a helicopter is waiting to whisk him off to Great Yarmouth. Before he leaves, we chat in the chopper, the wind wailing outside.

You seem very cheery today, I comment.

“Yes, well I love meeting people,” says Gordon brightly, smart in blue suit and stripy tie. “When I was young, because my father was a minister, we met hundreds of people a week. I’ve always been used to meeting people.”

You reminded people today of why Labour is the best party for Government. If you have the strongest offer, why is David Cameron in the lead?

“Because, this is an election where people are going to make up their mind at the last minute,” says Brown instantly. “And it’s hardly surprising – we’ve gone through a global financial crisis, the expenses crisis and people want to be sure about what they’re doing. The Conservatives thought this would be a procession into Downing Street, the Lib Dems thought for a few days that they were going to fly high and I think that people have seen that their policies don’t add up. I think they’re looking again at us and how we’ve taken this country through a difficult recession and I think more and more will come to us in the last few days.”

Perhaps. But, if this is the TVelection, maybe policies aren’t enough. Is charm a prerequisite for leadership?

“No,” says Brown. “Character is. Look, you have two types of people. The more celebrity, personality type who tells people what they want to hear. And that’s basically what the other parties have been doing. But I’ve got to defend a record, tell people what I believe and what I stand for. I’ve taken difficult decisions and we’ll continue to do what’s right for the country. What shines through in the end is whether your character is strong enough and I’ve certainly been tested and I have the strength of character to lead this country.”

Has your character changed since you became Prime Minister?

“I think I’m a tougher person, more resilient than people thought. I’ve had to take a lot from the press, but you’ve got to get up in morning and get on with the job. You’ll never avoid making mistakes but it’s how you respond to these mistakes that matters. The very nature of the job means it’s something you can never prepare for. There’s no training for the range of crises: volcanic ash, foot and mouth, terrorist attack, a global financial crisis, the expenses crisis. These were not in the plans and nor could you have done very much to prepare for them.

“My complaint about the Conservatives and Lib Dems is not that they’re young and inexperienced, it’s that they lack judgement and their policies are not fair. We’re coming out of a recession and they want to give massive cuts to the richest estates in Britain! It’s not fair, it’s not just, it’s not moral.”

The helicopter door opens. We have to do a photo before it really starts chucking it down. Gordon Brown’s mood, which has been astonishingly convivial up until now, changes instantly. He does not want his photo taken, especially in the blustery rain, in an open field. Fair enough.

We stand on the grass, wind and rain whipping our faces like nature’s happy slappers. I put my hand on his arm to make the photo seem relaxed.

It’s what Brown should do, really: Tony Blair would have. The gesture doesn’t occur to Gordon.

After a few shots, Gordon calls a halt. The wind is making his contact lens hurt and he nips to his car to get some lens solution. When we reconvene in the helicopter, his mood is not what it was. Happy Gordon is gone, replaced by a busy, rather irritated man.

I mention the possibility of a hung parliament.

“I’m not talking hung parliament,” says the PM. “I’m talking about a majority Labour government. I’m not going to speculate about a hung parliament to anybody, no matter how kind you are, no matter how friendly you are, no matter how many photos we do. I’m not interested in it.”

Okay, then, how would you persuade a voter, poised in the polling booth, to vote Labour then?

“We are the party of the minimum wage,” says Brown. “Of nursery education at 3 years old, of child care, of children’s centres, of civil partnerships, of devolution. We are the party that’s made huge advances in civil, social, economic policies in the last 13 years.”

He’s right, of course. It’s just a shame he can’t always deliver that message with the joy and passion that he did when in the campus earlier. Gordon doesn’t want to have to tell us all how well he’s done at being Prime Minister, how great the Labour Party has been for this country.

He doesn’t want people like me judging him on how friendly, or upbeat, or irritable he is. He just wants to get on with doing the job. I get out of the helicopter and watch it fly away.

Into the weather, which doesn’t seem as clear and bright as it did before.